


When You See Me Again It'll Be Me AND All of My Degenerate Friends

by Anonymous



Series: One [3]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-02 16:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Akira learns more about himself and makes new friends along the way.





	1. Furious Fists

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place over the course of August and that palace just sayin

“Have you acclimated to it all? Palaces, Mementos, treasures?”

Akira fights the temptation to lean against the cell bars. The last time he had made such an error Caroline made sure he paid for it. He shakes his head.

“I see.” Igor says, eyes unblinking and mouth unmoving. “Maybe you will one day, maybe you won’t.”

He stares at Akira for a moment.

“Caroline, Justine, and I have prepared another gift for you. Do come by once you have found it. For now I will allow you a hint.”

One moment Akira feels something brush against both of his palms, in the next the feeling disappears.

“Until then.”

Igor waves. Akira spirals back into darkness.

***

When one is at the club and can’t dance they can let the darkness cripple them, or they can do their best with what they have.

Eventually Akira becomes proficient at ‘just rolling with it’ and ‘crossing that bridge when one gets there’. He has to with the amount of practice he’s had.

Akira walks up the Leblanc stairs, flower print shopping bag heavy from a snack run. Sojiro had warmed up to Akira leaving his friends in the café alone fast. Then again he’d warmed up to Akira having a pet in seconds, that was a far larger responsibility. 

It’s dead quiet but the thought of something bad having happened seems too unlikely. How much trouble could his friends get into with Sojiro downstairs? It’s not like he had any hard expectations for when he returned to the attic, maybe seeing his friends engaged in idle chatter.

When he crests the top of the staircase the first thing he sees is Ryuji and Ann staring intently at each other, both hands engaged in hand holding across the table top.

Akira walks closer and no one budges. Makoto looks over Ryuji and Ann, Yusuke seems more focused on his jyagariko. Akira gently sets the bag down on the floor.

They both blink and let go, leaning back in their respective chairs. 

Ann sighs. “Did you get any drinks?”

“Starvicks?” Akira whispers, Sojiro probably wouldn’t care but he still feels guilty.

Ann takes it with a frown. “I should have just gone downstairs.”

“They were trying to combine,” Makoto says before Akira can mount a defence.

“Figures only this guy could do it. We all do different things in the palaces but you’re really something else.” Ryuji says balefully.

“About that, have you tried getting checked by a doctor? You’re friends with a local practitioner right?”

They all turn to stare at Makoto.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Makoto gasps. “Nothing that happened in the bank worried you?”

She gawks at Akira. “This isn’t taking any kind of physical toll on you?”

Well he sleeps real good whenever he comes out of the metaverse, doubly so if he fused with someone. Akira shrugs.

Ann speaks up when Akira doesn’t. “Well even _if_ we went to the doctor who would we send?”

If they want their money’s worth they’d send their most anatomically “divergent” fusion. Thinking back to the bank brings to mind an obvious candidate.

That’s not even accounting for the fact that the longest he’s held a fusion outside the metaverse is a few minutes. While Tae seems to have figured them out after changing Oyamada’s heart how many steps further would it be to explain the process?

How many steps did they even want to bother with?

“It doesn’t have to be too complicated. It’s a walk-in, so we could just fuse beforehand and walk in.”

“And hope they don’t ask any difficult questions?” Yusuke mutters, nigh mutinously through his snack.

Makoto relents after that jab.

“What if we tried practicing outside the metaverse?”

“Practicing?” Makoto says, looking at Ryuji intently.

“Like training for a marathon or something. Maybe Akira’ll be able to hold the fusion for longer if we help him practice.”

Akira half expects everyone to denounce it as kangaroo science on the spot, but it’s not a surprise when everyone waits for Ryuji to continue.

“Whenever we hang out you could try gradually holding it for longer.”

In theory it’s a good idea.

Akira speaks slowly. What is the appropriate way to express his concerns?

“When I do it I become not me.” 

He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m there for the ride but I’m not steering, and I don’t know the person steering. They’re familiar but I don’t know them.”

Presumably it’s the same for all of them. He’s pretty sure whoever he joins with experiences the same thing he does.

A look crosses Ann’s face, she leans forward. “Will they do something you don’t want?”

“I don’t think they’d go rogue or anything. Just…” 

Akira fiddles with his glasses. “Ryuji you talked to them before right? That one time when it was me and Ann.”

Ryuji snorts. “Yeah for a few seconds.” 

“What were they like?” He presses.

“Bit of a cheeky asshole like you and they told me not to get anything fizzy from the vending machine.

Part of him and part of Ann. Naturally. Akira wasn’t sure what he expected.

It even makes him a little angry. He’s the only person who can’t meet them. If he really wanted to he could probably set up a swap diary or something but he can’t have an actual one on one.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it man. I get it if you’re not it is kind of weird.”

“I want to,” Akira says sharply.

“I want to be first.”

Yusuke’s next to him, hands wrapped around his.

“This process sounds fascinating. Regrettably I never got to experience it, so I would like to be first.”

Akira would probably say yes to anything with Yusuke staring at him and holding his hands like this.

“Well go on.”

That breaks the reverie quick.

“Now?” He must be making quite the face at Makoto but she doesn’t budge.

“You don’t have any commitments do you? And we’re all here to chaperone in case something happens.”

Talk about performance anxiety, but he was nothing if not an excellent showman. 

Akira closes his eyes. Every time it happened he was seconds away from dying. He trails his fingers over the back of Yusuke’s hands then slides his palms against his.

The main thing he had on his mind each time was how he didn’t want to die, but there was something else wasn’t there?

“Think about me.” Akira says without opening his eyes. Of course he was thinking about more than just Yusuke. Softening boundaries, threads that connected their hands and their hearts, those weren’t things that he wanted to say in front of all his friends though. Was it possible to love your friends too much?

“And uh.. Try to think of things connecting?” Akira adds, slipping his fingers in between Yusuke’s. He closes his fingers over and feels Yusuke do the same.

A membrane melts into another. A bright light.

They’re…. New.

They open their eyes to be greeted by the various expressions around the table, curiosity, shock.

“The clothes fuse too?”

They look down and sure enough they’re wearing a white… Something. The Kosei fleur-de-lis is on the breast, and if they touch their collar sure enough those are the Shujin chevrons.

“Now let’s go to the neighbourhood clinic.”

“No thank you,” they respond.

There isn’t a whole lot they can do. The café is still open downstairs and they’d rather not have to herd any difficult questions from Sojiro. 

For a good moment all of them sit quiet around the table. It’s funny. They’ve met all these people, going by their memories at least, yet they’re a stranger.

“Y’know we should take you to the Wilton some time.” Ryuji says with a grin. “Akira and Yusuke are monsters, if we went with you we’d definitely get our money’s worth.”

“They were gonna kick us out last time already.” Ann says glumly, “that was before you guys had that elevator fight.”

“We could go Big Bang Burger?” Makoto suggests.

“Don’t bother.”

A loud meow comes from the stairs. Morgana walks towards them, a stray scale glinting on his whiskers.

“Akira can finish the last tier in his sleep. It’s a little horrifying watching him.”

***

The good news is that Makoto drops the topic of getting checked by a doctor in August. The bad news is it’s only because a mysterious entity named Medjed threatens some kind super hacker terrorism if the Phantom Thieves don’t act.

“We could just let them,” Ann says. “I mean in the past they went after CEOs and kind of did a Robin Hood thing right? It’d suck but surely they wouldn’t hurt anyone would they?”

“They said they were going to go after supporters of the Phantom Thieves and ruin Japan. We can’t take the chance.”

Trust Akira’s dumb luck to have a super hacker come directly to him.

Less lucky because while no palace has been easy, Akira is deeply afraid the pyramid will kill them. Not the shadows in the pyramid, the Pyramid.

“I think I still have sand in my outfit from last time,” Ryuji groans.

“Me too.”

“Mhm.”

“Yes.”

“All those damn stakes too.”

Right then a scrape rumbles through the room, reverberating through them all. It’s beyond loud. Akira can feel it in his bones, he becomes the sound vibrating. 

Looking towards the sound has him facing a huge boulder that reaches the cavern ceiling. Rolling right at them. 

Akira bites his cheek, they were so close to the top of the slope. He doesn’t have to look back to know it’s a long way back down.

_Why aren’t they running!?_

The scenery dims and his sight frantically darts to and fro. Ledges he can jump up, vases that gleam with valuables, a crawlspace.

Nothing that they could reach in time or help them.

“Akira.”

There’s a terseness to Yusuke’s voice but his eyes are still and his hand is out. 

Akira begins to reach out. Physically Yusuke is the strongest of them and Akira isn’t too shabby himself, they might be able to buy the others some time.

“Akira!”

Makoto’s hand is in front of him. She…

Well given what happened in the bank that could be handy here.

The room trembles, he needs to act. His palms burn.

Akira lashes out with both arms.

***

One second, there’s so many inputs coming in that it feels like their brain will explode.

In the next their arms surge forward. Punching head-on into the boulder.

“GO!” They roar.

They slow the boulder to a very fast crawl, it still has their feet skidding along the floor.

It’s not enough.

They howl an awful sound as a searing, familiar pain splinters through their lower back. A pain that morphs and evolves and it feels like lava erupting from their slight frame. How they don’t puke, explode, or die on the spot and instead continue holding the boulder is beyond them.

The pain dulls to a gentle pulse, or they finally have enough adrenaline pumped into their system to numb it all. Another set of hands pushes against the boulder. Palms open, right under the first set.

They stop skidding down the slope. Their head drops down violently as all four arms tremble with the effort.

“You can do it!”

Ryuji’s voice sounds so far away, but at least they’re safe. Thank goodness.

But they can’t hold this boulder back forever and they also need to not get rolled flat.

A fist bangs against the boulder in frustration. What can they do?

More clattering and scraping draws their attention to the floor just in time to see a few rock chunks rolling down the slope. They look back to where they had slammed their fist and sure enough there’s a dent.

All their arms are ready to fall off any moment now, but this is all they have.

So begins the test for their four hands blessed by Sabazios. 

The lower set holds the boulder back the best they can, the higher set gets to work. 

They punch and punch. Left right left right, one two one two, gyrating their torso appropriately to supplant each punch with all the force they can. More than they have honestly going off how it seems every single muscle fibre screams in agony. 

Rubble dust rises through the cacophony of rock chunks cascading to the floor. It settles around them, eventually clogging their eyes enough to render them useless. Tears stream down their cheeks to no avail. 

If the eyes on their face fail, then they must rely on the third. 

The room darkens save for ledges and valuables, their ears ring. Just another sensation to add to the exquisite and varied symphony of pain that is their mortal vessel at this point. They keep punching.

After an age, The Stone Age one might say, they hammer out a large flat surface. Large enough that when the boulder rolls with the flat part underneath and wedged by the rubble, the boulder finally, mercifully stops.

They can’t feel their arms. They can’t feel anything or they’re feeling so much that nothing stands out.

The ground rushes to meet them, but they meet it at a funny angle that has them sliding and rolling down the slope. Rude, a more dignified rest would have been preferable.

Alas much needed rest is much needed rest.

Another horrendously familiar rumble rocks the room.

Fuck that wasn’t the only one.

The dark purple indigo that had been mottling their vision and mind for some time now completely takes them.


	2. The Fall

One morning a dull steady thudding on the windows and attic ceiling draws Akira out of his slumber. As far as awakenings go it’d probably get all tens if there was an Olympic category for such. He rests, eyes clear and not too sweaty. Mugginess permeates the attic but it hasn’t choked out the remaining morning chill yet. The rain means that the chill will probably stay, it also means that he can anticipate fording the Yoncha river in his shittiest slippers while hoping not to slip and die in Yoncha station.

He glances up towards the window, closed but for a sliver. He could have sworn he’d had them wide open last night. 

Funny, Sojiro must come up more often than he thought.

One drop of many slides down, catching and joining with a few others on its way down.

“Oi kid! Your friend’s down here and don’t you _dare_ make a lady wait.”

“Lady Ann!” Morgana yowls with a twinkle in his eye.

“Not so loud,” Akira hisses. “Stay here the cafe’s still open.”

Morgana fires off a dozen complaints in a matter of seconds. Getting Ann up here should shut him up fast.

Rolling out of bed he puts on some slippers and heads down. When he’s close enough to hear the TV he freezes. 

The last time he’d shuffled downstairs in his pyjamas during open hours he’d received the lecture of his life. By the stars above the lecture he’d received.

Grudgingly he gets dressed.

***

“How’s Futaba?”

Several days had passed since he last asked. There wasn’t any hope of hiding how antsy he was from Sojiro but he should at least act like he wasn’t.

“Still sleeping. She was out for a month once. You might be waiting for a while kid.” Sojiro replies, keeping his focus on stirring a huge pot of curry.

“Completely out for a month?” 

Sojiro shrugs. 

Even knowing Ann’s here before coming down the stairs, Akira is taken aback at the sight of Ann sitting alone in the booth.

Ann in Yongen is a rare sight. As a matter of fact Akira doesn’t think he’s ever seen her in Yongen other than team meetings at Leblanc. For a good reason. From what he’d gathered Ann coming to Yongen from her house was on par with Ann going to outer space.

Her magazine is the most colourful item in the cafe. Actually, she might be the most colourful being in the cafe.

Akira spies shortbread on her coffee saucer, as he walks towards her booth. The awfully familiar ones from the jar behind the counter. The ones that he’d reached for once and the sound Sojiro had made was quiet but enough to put him off trying again for a good while.

“Akira!” She looks up from her magazine with a huge toothy grin.

They go up the stairs.

“So how have you been?” She chirps when they both settle cross-legged on his bed. Morgana leaps onto the bed and curls up next to her leg.

“Been alright.” He grunts. Well, he has. No more, maybe a little less.

“Your arms?”

Akira flexes his hand open and shut. On that day it sounds like Ryuji and Ann dragged their bodies to safety where Morgana healed them.

There was still a bit of tremble to his hands, it took a lot less for the muscles in his arms to reject him. 

Takemi had said it would take time no matter how okay the surface looked.

“And?” Ann continues.

Akira huffs. 

When a week had passed without Futaba waking up, intentionally or not, Makoto had brought hell into the group chat.

_“What if you tried fusing with her? The result would be awake, willing to resolve the Medjed issue, and have the knowledge to do so.”_

Akira’s instant response nearly had him ill it was so violent. His mind was all pins and needles, his vision fuzzy.

 _“No.”_ How naive he was to think that would be enough to resolve the issue.

“It’s not just about Futaba,” Akira says softly. He runs a hand through his hair.

Ann raises an eyebrow, her hand that had been gently scritching Morgana’s head pauses.

“I get confused afterward. Really confused.”

Everyone has some experience with it, presumably they deal with having parts of him. Akira on the other hand.

He grimaces, “it’s getting hard to remember what I didn’t actually do.” 

“It’s a lot to put on someone.”

Morgana headbutts Ann’s hand. She resumes her scratching but her eyes remain trained on Akira.

“It won’t work if we’re both not okay with it ya know.” Akira grumbles. He’s saying nothing, everything tumbling out of his mouth may as well be nonsense talk. Spilling it out frees his chest, for more brambles and poison to find their way in.

“Even if,” he whispers. “Even _if_ Futaba wanted to, if I wanted to.”

He swallows.

“I don’t think I can.”

“You can’t do the thing anymore?”

He keeps his lips pressed in a tight thin line, it’s a little that.

“Here,” Ann extends her hand. “If you wanna?”

Akira can’t say he does.

He goes for her wrist instead and holds on.

Before the thought of someone’s hand in his, fingers intertwined used to give bloom to a gentle warmth in his heart and cheeks. A warmth tinged with a little slimyness in the form of that biweekly concern that he’s falling for his friends too hard and too fast. Nonetheless a feeling he couldn’t get enough of.

Thinking about it now though. He bites his cheek.

Last time really _really_ hurt.

“Akira if you can’t you should probably let everyone else know. That’ll make them stop.”

At what cost?

They sit on the mattress. Attic quiet save for the cicadas buzzing and Morgana purring. His mind blanks on letting go of Ann’s wrist.

His shoulders jump when a warm heavy weight lays itself across them. Next thing he knows Ann’s pulling him in. He goes along easily. They’re both fairly sweaty which isn’t great, but his shoulders feel lighter and looser than they have in a long time. No brambles or doubts grow in the open space.

***

Life is an endless cycle of being knocked on his ass and working up the strength and motivation to get back up. Like getting slapped with a false charge of assault. Like being on the brink of expulsion within days of enrolling in a new school. Like someone threatening to sue him and his friends within an inch of their lives.

Like nearly pissing off his PO enough to throw him out.

Like having to wait for said PO’s daughter to wake up so they wouldn’t have to take the fall for bringing ruin to the country.

The day is upon them.

“Maybe I’ll visit Futaba.” Akira says quietly, sitting up in bed. 

“And then what?” Morgana asks, peering down at him from the windowsill.

“Try to wake her up?” 

Morgana doesn’t grace him with a reply.

Waking up feeling like the only order of the day is walking himself to the gallows isn’t new, it never ceases to be a quaint feeling though. Akira bows his head and conjures memories of going to Meiji Shrine, of all the shooting stars he saw in Ikebukuro Planetarium with Yusuke.

He clasps his hands together emphatically for a moment.

No matter what, life will go on. He marches down the stairs.

“Mornin’” Sojiro greets him from his spot at the counter, watching the morning news.

“Mornin’” Akira says in kind. Yesterday he’d asked about Futaba and he opens his mouth now getting ready to do the same. To hell with not being annoying with impending doom on the horizon.

Right then the bells of the door jingle and a shock of vivid orange strolls in. The words die on his throat.

“Yo.”

“Yo...” Sojiro murmurs, eyes the widest Akira has ever seen them.

“Sojiro can I get a coffee?”

“Uh sure.” Sojiro turns to Akira, “hey are you just gonna stand there? It’s creepy.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles hastily before taking a seat next to Futaba. She doesn’t acknowledge him, just sits there tapping at her phone. For a moment Akira wonders if he needs to message the person sitting right next to him.

“Uh, Medjed.” He stammers. Not a great opener but it’s been a long week.

“Medjed!” Futaba gasps then leaps out of her chair and guns for the door. 

“Oy Futaba! Futaba!” Sojiro yells. “Your coffee!”

“I’ll be five minutes!” She yells back before slamming the door shut with a jingle.

Akira takes off after her.

Considering she had woken up a few hours ago at most Futaba is _fast_.

Nothing is “refreshing” about the Yongen backstreets in the middle of August yet tearing down the road after Futaba is exactly that. 

It’s like breaking through after treading water, the most awake Akira has felt in forever. 

By the time they reach Sojiro’s house he’s caught up. Futaba doesn’t bother to shut the front door, or the door to her own room. Akira holds off on shutting the door until Morgana comes bounding in after him.

They stumble panting into Futaba’s room and she quickly swivels in her chair to greet them. 

“It’s my turn to help you guys! Now how shall I cook Medjed?” She cackles, steepling her fingers under her chin. The early afternoon sun glinting off her glasses.

Akira himself can’t help a smile as he basks in Futaba’s radiant energy. A small voice that sounds suspiciously like Morgana tells him to get that dopey grin off his face. They’re not out of troubled waters after all.

“Fry them,” he says laughing.

“Ooh looks like Medjed’s made themselves a violent enemy,” Futaba snickers. She then begins typing at speeds that Akira wouldn’t believe were possible had he not witnessed it first-hand.

After that she stops responding to anything he or Morgana says. On one occasion Morgana plops himself down near her and extends a paw to poke her. Akira tells him to stop the moment his paw gets a bit too close. If Futaba’s really working on Medjed then they’ll leave her to it.

A full-package room cleaning and several micro naps later Akira jolts awake at Futaba cheering. 

“Done!” She crows, swinging in her chair to face Akira. Expression changing in a blink as she gapes at her room.

“Done…?” Akira says in a tiny voice, he leans forward. “You dealt with Medjed?” 

That gives her back her thunder. “I have dealt with Medjed,” she says nodding. “And someone dealt with my room.”

The source of last month’s oppressive stress gone. Just like that. 

“Thank you,” Akira says. He feels small.

In one fluid motion Futaba flashes him a peace sign, pulls a pillow out from behind her and sets it on the desk, then faceplants into it. 

Akira figures he should at least pry her glasses off before leaving.

***

“Inmate.”

Akira opens his eyes and rolls over to the gate of his cage. Informative as these meetings are and despite having a bond with all the residents, something about the Velvet Room leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Freeing a girl from her haunted past and staving off societal ruin.” Igor says, looking at the paper on his desk as if he’s reading a report on all of Akira’s metaverse doings. “What great progress you have made on your rehabilitation, Inmate.”

If Akira cranes his neck a little he can see the paper is blank.

“Furthermore, a curious tidbit has found its way to you has it not?”

Igor is reading the paper. It’s faint but Akira can see his pupils making the appropriate movements. A written record of their activities in the metaverse, Akira would love a copy for himself. Discounting how dangerous such a thing could be of course.

“A scientist who was murdered, her research stolen. Perhaps that mysterious morsel you gathered from the last palace is related to this one.” 

Akira tenses, the black masked figure working in tandem with people who were responsible for murdering Wakaba. Maybe even the black mask himself was responsible.

“Together with your bonds you have achieved incredible feats.” He pauses, Akira swears he can see the ever present smile grow a hair larger. “However _you_ have experienced a great setback.”

Direct hit. Akira winces, he still had yet to tell the others. Still had yet to actually confirm that he indeed couldn’t fuse anymore, he couldn’t say he had a lot of motivation to do so.

“Will you return to averting your eyes from the truth?”

Igor chuckles quietly. “You have our aid. That alone cannot cross hurdles for you, but we have faith in you, Inmate.”

He waves his hand and Akira can feel himself spiralling away already.

“Until then.”


	3. Information Technology

_“Access denied”_

It’s difficult to call Mementos peaceful or quiet at any moment, what with the shadows and the crashing and screeching tires on rails.

Another uncomfortable jolting sound, much like the one Akira hears in his mind whenever he tries to summon too many personas too fast in a fight. He’s never heard a clearer embodiment of rejection.

He never thought he’d be hearing it aloud.

_“Access denied”_

Shadows leave them alone. It’s quiet save for the soft purring of the Monabus, and whatever Futaba is doing inside of Necronomicon.

_“Access denied”_

They leave her to it.

There’s another twinge.

_“Access-“_

Akira swerves the vehicle into a nearby shadow with a deafening crash.

Mementos is also the training room of the Phantom Thieves in a way. At first they had kept it simple. Trying and changing combinations of the vanguard and recording the results. Fresh abilities that they were too nervous about test driving in the Palace.

Akira’s curious ability to fuse multiple people into one being.

When Futaba joined them, Mementos became the laboratory.

_“Inari whack that shadow as hard as you can, then do it again after high fiving Joker!”_

Necronomicon records everything, and Futaba whips their cheeky experimentation into a fine science. 

Occasionally Akira hears the team discussing persona skills in the car. They don’t discuss Akira’s skills or Futaba’s records unless prompted.

The team’s lack of prodding is easy on Akira’s self-esteem, unfortunately his rare self-persecution streak is very tough on it.

They’ll be fine. Together they are seven and very strong, he can scroll through completed requests on his phone for days. Strong as they are he can’t say they’re 100%, and when it came to clutch...

Akira’s arms throb at the memory of Futaba’s palace.

“Joker?”

“It’s nothing.” Akira murmurs.

“I’ll take the wheel?” Makoto offers. 

Sitting in the Monabus trapped with his thoughts sounds like torture. However he does remember spacing out behind the wheel several times today.

“Thanks Queen,” Akira says before climbing into the second row. Ann calls shotgun.

No requests today. He wouldn’t be so distracted if they did have a grander mission. 

Ann turns in her seat to face them. “Is it okay if I leave in about an hour? I want to see Shiho tonight.”

“I’m down, might do the same if we don’t have anything important down here.” Ryuji says then grins sheepishly, “Mementos is exhausting and all but it doesn’t beat a little light exercise at night.”

That’s enough for Akira to call it a day.

“Hold up.” Futaba announces when they reach the entrance.

She descends from Necronomicon wreathed in shadowy vines, marches right up to Akira and points emphatically to the vines still hanging out.

“Do it.” She whispers.

Akira tilts his head. He looks to the tentacles hanging out of Necronomicon, to where Futaba’s pointing, to Futaba’s goggles. 

_“Do it.”_

Akira tiptoes to Necronomicon, then walks with more confidence when Futaba’s expression defrosts at the move. A cold shiver trickles up and oozes down his spine when he comes close to Necronomicon’s limbs. They’re _moving_ , not just how seaweed in the ocean moves but inside and the skin itself. The nature of the movement has too many layers for Akira to process.

She nods when he reaches out to touch one of Necronomicon’s arms, clicks her tongue whenever he tries to get away from the persona. Throughout all of this Necronomicon doesn’t move. There’s a good reason for all this, maybe.

Finally, Akira’s coached into a place where he’s climbing up Necronomicon’s arms. Nothing happens when he reaches the top. Nigh out of desperation Akira gently knocks on the ship.

By now it seems like the vines are supporting him, he’s not clinging on for dear life anymore. Otherwise there’s no change in Necronomicon.

Futaba shakes her head and orders him down.

***

It hasn’t been long since he’s met Futaba, but given what they’ve gone through together the closeness came easy enough.

Yusuke used to live close enough to Shibuya that he could just walk home after Mementos trips. Kosei and Makoto’s apartment complex are in the same direction so they usually got the train together.

Ann and Ryuji took a train together for some time before Ryuji had to get off and Ann switched lines at the next stop.

Leaving Akira and Morgana and the long train back to Yoncha. That’s how it’d been since the beginning. Calling it lonely wasn’t exactly right. He did have someone to ride with except Morgana could only get away with talking on a crowded and loud train.

The addition of Futaba livens the journey up _immensely_.

“So anyway I told you that Necronomicon has the _perfect_ UI right? Like something I designed but I didn’t actually build it or anything and everything’s encrypted...”

They’re on the tail end of the journey, just a few stops before Yongen and the carriage is sparse. There are empty seats and by far Akira and Futaba are the loudest in the carriage. People glare at them. It’s the most Akira’s felt like a big city youth. 

“Yeah so ‘Nom has protected folders but they’re all touch authentication because obviously they’re MY persona and...”

Akira nervously eyes the ceiling corners of the train carriage.

Futaba leans against him. “They broke a long time ago,” she whispers then returns to perching on the train seat.

“As I was saying I was going through ‘Nom’s hard drive again and found another protected library and whatever I put my hand down.” 

She takes a huge breath and puffs her cheeks. Akira has never seen her this offended.

“‘Nom wouldn’t let me in! Some libraries don’t require the whole handprint so I tried all my fingers, my feet, my face.” She grumbles, “nothing worked. I don’t get it.”

Akira peers into his bag and Morgana shakes his head.

“I’ve never heard of a persona with any of these skills,” he says meekly. 

“So I thought I would try to get you up in there because clearly I can’t unlock it.” Futaba violently crosses her arms at that last bit.

“Excuse me?” Yes, Akira can wield more than one persona. Wielding personas that belonged to others, wielding the manifestations of his friend’s rebellion. Wielding manifestations of their psyche, might be beyond him.

“I mean you were the most likely.” Futaba shrugs.

On another late afternoon Akira takes a cheeky after school trip to Shinjuku. A juicy tidbit that the school gossip mill has already got its hands on maybe. It’s difficult to tell what people have legitimately witnessed him doing and people just saying they saw him doing the naughtiest stuff they could think up. Akira assumes every rumour is the latter by this point.

After Chihaya found she could gain insight on his friends’ abilities Akira had made a point to see her about all his friends, and anyone who might join the party later. 

“The hermit? I’ve been seeing the hermit a lot in your fortunes lately too. Let’s see what comes up.” Chihaya murmurs before laying out the cards.

Chihaya quietly flips her cards. Next to them Akira hears a barker frantically trying to sell home security systems while most people are more interested in Wanna Wanna-kun.

“Done.” Chihaya gasps, laying down the last card. “Oh it seems like the hermit has already awakened quite a bit but...”

She goes to a card facing down and flips it. “It seems like this is beyond them for the moment.” She purses her lips, “I get why.”

Akira leans closer to the table.

“The hermit has insight on restoration of the body and mind. My cards say that eventually the hermit will gain insight on-“

Chihaya squints. “Melting of boundaries and joining? The restoration of boundary manipulation??”

A lightbulb flickers on in Akira’s mind. He stands up, slapping a little extra something to the five hundred yen on the table. “Thanks Chihaya, that’s all I needed.”

Chihaya’s shoulders jump. “Really? I’m glad it helped.”

Originally his after-school plan was to see Chihaya then head over to Akihabara to play UFO catcher and hangout with the King. Tempting as finding out what the new catcher prize was, Akira knows now what he needs to do.

He shoots Futaba a text and embarks on the long journey back to Yongen.

By the time he reaches Leblanc the sky’s a different colour and he’s finished a book. Nonetheless the sun’s still up and Futaba’s squatting on Leblanc’s porch.

When Futaba looks up at him he nods. “You ready?”

No yelling, no hands rubbing in anticipation, just stone-faced determination. Futaba nods.

“Let’s roll.”

They don’t say much through the journey to Shibuya and Mementos. The nature of family business wasn’t pleasant after all. 

Going through Mementos without steering the Monabus to take his mind off things, without the banter of his friends in the background, has Akira feeling naked. Futaba seems to be able to detect where the target is, thank goodness for the small mercies. 

“Wouldn’t happen to have room for two in there would you?” Akira mutters after Futaba tells him to keep running for the nth time.

“Sorry Joker this here’s a one-seater. The next floor’s a rest stop though if you need a breather.”

“How much more?”

“You’re getting close. Target should be on the floor after the rest stop.”

Akira shakes his head. “Let’s keep going.”

Sombre as the train journey was, Futaba snaps back into order once they find the man pestering Sojiro. The battle goes smooth enough considering they didn’t have their whole cohort.

“Joker? I just got a new gauge on Necronomicon.”

For a fleeting moment Akira thinks of what Chihaya hinted at. Fusion regeneration, right here, at this time of day, in Mementos, seems too good to be true. It’s probably something else which is just as well. Any new skills are helpful to the cause.

“Should we go to the entrance for this?”

“Oh yeah that’d be good.” Futaba chirps, “if you get on that there train it should take you back to the entrance.”

Akira looks at the ufo for exactly one moment before boarding. He didn’t get this far by saying no to people.

Perhaps it was a personal failing.

“So in my party screen you have a gauge labelled ‘FP’ and it’s empty.” Futaba informs him when they step off the train.

Akira freezes. 

“I took the liberty of boosting your FP as much as I could. The others told me about what happened in my palace.”

Futaba twiddles her thumbs after saying this which has Akira looking around. It’s not crowded, maybe it’s been too much of a day for her.

“I think there was a problem with our last experiment. This time I want to try fusing first and then seeing if Necronomicon lets us in.”

She says that, then looks down and taps her toes. Understandably, though on Akira’s part it’s more performance anxiety. He squats down, Futaba follows. Like this they’re the same height.

“We don’t have to take gloves off for this do we?”

Akira shakes his head.

“Okay,” Futaba whispers. Nodding to herself she looks up at him with a glint in her eye, then raises her hands like claws. “Let’s do this lucky item.”

It’s a little alarming, the way she dominates the hold and for a moment Akira loses himself. What was it like? It’s been too long since he’s attempted this. 

Like all their endeavours this too was a team effort. So why was he trying to navigate the fusion alone?

“Uh I need help,” he mumbles smartly. 

“How does that work?”

“Try to think of being recast as one being. Something like that.” He’s still mumbling. Akira clears his throat trying to come up with something smarter to say.

“I got it,” Futaba interjects, eyes staying closed.

Akira closes his eyes. Steering the feeling is frustrating so instead he tries riding it. Letting go.

***

They wake up still squatting.

Standing up gives them a hell of a case of the stand-up dizzies. They’re a lot taller, a little shorter.

Necronomicon is still where they left them, no reason ‘Nom wouldn’t be.

They walk over to stand under ‘Nom and raise a hand up.

Nothing happens, much like the first time they tried this and they feel a fool.

Then, miraculously, vines slither down. First engulfing their hand, their arm, and then all of them is being lifted into the ship. 

They give themselves a minute to admire their ship before diving into finding that folder they couldn’t open. All of the usual locks still open with their right hand, which is a little bit of a relief but also what if that means their handprint hasn’t changed? Had anything changed aside from their appearance.

Eventually they reach the moment of truth, that menu that just wouldn’t open. They put down their right hand.

_“Access denied”_

It’s okay, they tell their heartbeat which has rocketed in tempo. There’s no reason to put their fist through the screen yet they haven’t exhausted all their options. They place their left hand on the reader.

_“Access granted”_

Inside seems to be another party menu, this time with the very notable absence of Joker. Skull is at the top of the screen, so they click his folder first. 

Out springs a hodgepodge of graphs and numbers. When they recover enough to start isolating individual figures they realise that Joker isn’t absent from this menu. If anything Joker’s most likely been integrated in everyone else’s folders.

By now Necronomicon has stopped bombing them with new information. Out of the mess they find two diagrams, one of Joker and one of Skull. 

_Height: 100% Match_  
_Stability: 60%_  
_Duration: 42 minutes_

This…

They look to the number of charts that popped out of Skull’s folder and then back to the sidebar with the other party members. They pull a USB out of their thief garb, pop it in, and get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a part I really want to get to but I'm trying to make everything along the way interesting too... It's hard ><

**Author's Note:**

> Do not let anyone tell you you can't post the dumbest shit imaginable for strangers on the internet to read because you absolutely can. You can do anything.


End file.
